


A Change Of Pace

by obsessedbutonline



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2019, Empath Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Gen, stetersecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedbutonline/pseuds/obsessedbutonline
Summary: Stiles has always struggled to contain the effects of being an empath- Peter, like he always seems to do, worms his way through the cracks.My entry for the Steter Secret Santa 2k19, enjoy!
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 258
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	A Change Of Pace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnazzySterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnazzySterek/gifts).



Fiddling with the loose threads attached to his sleeve, Stiles watches the huddle of bodies on the floor below him. It would be a pack meeting, they'd said, but in a few hours- a record, and it was only getting shorter- it had dissolved into a puppy pile under the glow of the murmuring TV.

Sitting with his feet tucked under him, Stiles let out a disbelieving laugh at Scott, who had fallen asleep on Allison's stomach, his feet entwined with Isaac's. Interesting.

"Come cuddle, Batman," Erica said, her voice muffled by Boyd's arm thrown over her, which did little to ease the suspicious glare she was sending Stiles' way.

Holding his hands up in mock defeat, Stiles shook his head vehemently. "I'm not a cuddler. If I'm in that pile with all of you- who knows what'll happen?" He leers, waggling an eyebrow suggestively. Erica rolled her eyes, before tucking herself back under Boyd, and waving him off with a tired hand.

"Then go somewhere else, creep, it's weird with you just watching us," 

"As if it's not weird already," Stiles countered, getting out of the chair with a huff.

Dodging the wayward limbs tucked tightly around each other was a feat by itself, which is why Stiles didn't notice 'till the last second that Erica was reaching to wrap a hand loosely around his wrist. He jerked, a small gasp escaping his mouth.

Fatigue. Concern- affection? 

The emotions clawed their way into his head, like an unending fire burning their way through his veins. Stumbling back, Stiles yanked his wrist away, cradling it to his wrist as Erica sat up, watching him with suspicion. 

"Sorry," He muttered, taking a few steps back as he watched her warily. An insistent throbbing had clouded his brain as he tried to catch his suddenly agitated breath.

"It's- okay?" Erica looked dubious, but after giving him one final, long look, she settled back into Boyd's side. Stiles let out a shaky breath, feeling both a pang of hurt and relief at how quickly she'd dismissed his behaviour. 

Stumbling through the rest of the unconscious teens splayed out around him, Stiles headed for the door, opening it slowly, conscious of the grating noise it made as it fell back into place behind him. 

Settling against the railing of the outside fire exit, he let out a shaky sigh, watching in the dingy light of a single flickering bulb as his breath uncurled in a small cloud as he tried to calm his breaths.

A throat cleared behind him. Whipping around, instantly on guard, Stiles turned to see no one other than Peter Hale reclined against the wall, half in the shadows as he regarded him with a smug expression. 

"Shit- warn a guy, huh, Peter?" Stiles said, after calming his flailing limbs and taking a step back until he was pressed into the cold lines of the railings. 

Peter scoffed, unfolding his arms and fixing Stiles with a look of mild concern. Which couldn't be right, it was Peter. "Sorry for forgetting about your inferior senses, next time I'll let out a warning siren," His voice was dry, but as Stiles watched him with suspicion, he realised the signature glint in his eye was missing.

"Or just say hello like everyone else, Creeperwolf,"

"Now what's the fun in that?" 

"I'm sure you'd know all about fun," 

"I happen to know all about fun, maybe I'll show you one time," Peter leered at him, his grin making Stiles roll his eyes in mock disgust. 

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, letting the moment pass. Mulling over the conversation, Stiles was infinitely glad that Peter seemed to lack the need to touch everyone in a metre radius of them, that the rest of the pack had a surplus of. 

Staring down at his fingers, Stiles felt a frown pull over his face as he thought bitterly about what life would be like if he could just touch without feeling every nuance of a feeling that a person was having, dammit! 

Peter watched him in silence. Minutes passed as Stiles steadily felt the cold of the night seeping into his clothes and making him blow into his hands in a last-ditch attempt to warm up.

The movement came from the other corner of the balcony, where Peter was shucking off his coat with an annoyed sigh. "Put this on, before you catch pneumonia and remain bed-bound for the next week," 

Stiles stared at him, shocked into silence, before settling on an easy grin as he let out a chortle. "Aw, do you care about me, Creeperwolf?" He asked, a bitter hint in his voice as he reached for the jacket. 

Peter pulled the coat back abruptly, shaking his head. "Your research makes you valuable, Stiles,"

Letting out a huff, Stiles grabbed for the coat once more, but in his haste let his fingers graze over the Were's. He stiffened, letting out a sharp breath.

Calm. Amusement. 

Snatching the jacket and retreating to his corner, Stiles waited for the inevitable headache that was sure to return. Peter watched him, his eyes narrowed minutely.

"What," Stiles asked sullenly,

"Nothing," Peter replied lightly, still not taking his eyes off of Stiles. "Is there a reason you're out here with me, instead of in there- with them," The Were jerked his head in the direction of the slumbering pack, his eyes narrowed on Stiles.

Letting out a disbelieving snort, Stiles fixed his eyes on Peter. "God knows, I guess my early-morning brain isn't working properly," 

His voice is ragged. The excuse was flimsy, and Stiles was glad Peter didn't call him out on it. 

Peter hummed. Dubious.

"I should-" Stiles made an aborted gesture at the door, shucking the coat off, trying to ignore the whisper of cedar and bergamot as he handed it to Peter. He used the coat as a barrier between their skin, not quite meeting the Were's eyes. 

Peter watched him go, the coat hanging from his hands. The only evidence the boy had ever been there was the slight scent of haggard fatigue and cinnamon. Looking down at the coat, Peter let out a huff, letting a rare smile twist his face. The boy was sharp- he was clever.

Padding over to his space just next to the pack, Stiles stilled, thinking of the brief slip of their hands. 

He'd never gotten the headache.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, SnazzySterek!! I hope you enjoy this fic, and Christmas in general.  
> To anyone else that happens to stumble upon this, thank you for the read :D and I hope you enjoy it too. As always, kudos and comments help keep me motivated, so feel free to leave your thoughts,,,ty ty


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